


The Insult

by SweetDeceiver



Category: David Sylvian - Fandom, Duran Duran, Japan (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1259398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDeceiver/pseuds/SweetDeceiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>According to Simon Napier-Bell, when Duran Duran were recording their debut album, they approached (his word is "begged") David Sylvian to produce. He refused, which Napier-Bell says was their making, since it stopped them from just being Japan clones.</p>
<p>This fic explores these events in a sexy and/or humorous way, focusing on the relationship between Nick and David.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Insult

Just as David squinted into the mirror, concentrating on dabbing away a smudge near his eye, the door clanked open beside him, dashing his composure. He glanced towards the noise, and saw a diminutive yet colourful figure prance into the toilets, blissfully unaware of the fact that he had nearly made David jab himself in the eye. He watched his progression in the mirror, seeing it was only a boy. Smeared in about 20 shades of Max Factor and dressed in hot pink, but undeniably a boy, floating around in a cloud of self-satisfaction. Yet as he passed behind him and glanced at David, he halted. “Are you David Sylvian?” he blurted out, hands flying up to his face in confusion.

David turned, an eyebrow raised in a devastating way, his mouth a red line and his eyes half-closed, unimpressed. The boy next to him looked back, his eyebrow also raised, his clear green eyes cool. They were frozen like this for a few moments, which felt a lot longer to David. Starting to feel paranoid, David hunched up his shoulders, backing up a little. “Yes…” he said, softly. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I’m er. I’m from... We’re recording in the other studio.” The boy said, glancing at his feet.  
David said nothing, but crept back a bit further. “Duran Duran. Have you heard of us before?” the boy continued, more loudly, finding sudden bravery in uttering the name of his band.

“No.” David said, tucking his make-up bag tighter under his arm. He looked in the mirror, critically- smoothed out a lock of hair. 

“Well, you should have.” The boy said, reflectively. He smirked, for no discernible reason. “Do you have any mascara?” 

“Yes.” David said, taken aback. Looking sideways at the boy, he noticed his hot red hair, styled in a way that looked very familiar to him. Its colour contrasted with his green eyes ringed with very precisely applied black eye pencil. God, another clone, he thought to himself. He eyed him for a moment, distantly appreciative, because despite everything, the boy had a delicate prettiness unspoiled by his taste for grand gestures in dress.

“Can I borrow it?” the boy said, looking at him with his frank, wide eyes. David fumbled in his make-up bag, pulled out his rather worn-out mascara and shoved it at the boy with a brusque movement. 

“Keep it.” he mumbled. The bathroom light seemed too bright to him right now, and besides, he had a feeling there was more to this boy than he was letting on. It made him nervous. He kept an eye on him as he stalked away, backwards, and out the door. 

 

\-----

 

Later that day, he was dozing quietly in the recording booth as Simon argued about mixes with Mick. He thought vaguely, dreaming away, that he needed that mascara. He shouldn’t have given it to that odd little man. At the time it had seemed like a good idea, as he had had the feeling the boy had wanted something from him but he couldn’t figure out what it was. But probably he could steal Mick’s, and it wouldn’t matter. He would just do it sneakily when he wasn’t looking. 

“AND ANOTHER THING, you should see if you’re interested in this.” Simon’s voice broke in upon his thoughts. He was standing very close and waving a tape in his face. David closed his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell him, Mick.” Mick sat down next to David in his gentle, unobtrusive way, and crossed his legs. David did not turn towards him.

“Well they gave it to me and Rich but we didn’t want to… I mean, they’re rather awful. But I guess you should listen to it before we throw it out.” He glanced at David and shrugged. 

“I don’t know. How bad is it?” David asked Mick.

“Ehm, I’d say... shite.” Mick said, stroking his face. Simon grinned. He enjoyed sallies like that.

“They’re dire.” He said. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. They’re from Birmingham, which is awful, of course, but maybe it wasn’t their fault. There is one, called Nigel of all things, who looks like a tart. No, that’s a lie, they all look like tarts. Anyway, they tried to fob me off with a story that his name was John, but I could tell he was really called Nigel. What a fashion we’ve set, eh? Really, though, I think they might do well and it would be good for you if you got involved, though it’s not, of course, terribly serious. But do we always want serious?” 

David tuned him out halfway through to think. This reminded him of something. But what? As Simon neared the end of his speech, it came to him.

“I think I saw one of them in the loos earlier.” he said, cringing. 

“Did you, indeed?” Simon said. Mick fixed David with a hard stare.

“Not like that.” David said.

“Well, I wouldn’t judge you if you did.” Simon said. Mick rolled his eyes at this and stalked away. Immediately, Simon leant in to David. “Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you alone about this. It’s you they actually asked for, and I think it would be a good thing if you did it. You’ve wanted to do something for yourself for ages, right?” David shrugged. “Well, anyway, I’ve set up a meeting tonight, so you can decide then.” Simon finished grandly, and clasped his hands together in glee.

“I didn’t…” David started, then left off. He didn’t usually have the energy to argue with Simon. He looked at him, his small blue eyes hard, thinking he would just ignore Simon’s arguing, and do what he wanted. Poor old Simon. “Will you fetch me?” he said.

“Of course, love.” Simon said. “Don’t you worry about a thing.” He stroked him soothingly on the back, and David let him, feeling numb and unable even to summon up discomfort. Mick came back and sat cold and hostile beside him. The afternoon dragged on.

\--------------------------------------

 

That night, he was sitting dutifully in a bar that was probably trendy but meant absolutely nothing to him. David stirred his drink, a fancy cocktail Simon had ordered. He sat in a broody haze, feeling a little lost, and hopelessly unable to judge the abilities of a bunch of scrawny boys with bad hair. He shivered at the thought, but there was no escaping it now.

After a while Simon got up and herded a group of people to their table. With big waves of his hand he introduced them all to him. David nodded politely and shook hands. Their names faded immediately from his mind, though he noticed the boy he had seen earlier vaguely. He sat down, talking to some manager or other, who looked eager and actually kind of cool. Had it just been him he might have done it, he thought, but as he peered surreptitiously at the band, giddy in their multi-coloured clothes and make-up, he definitely decided against it. He sank back into uncomfortable boredom as he made intentionally stupid small talk about booking with this Paul figure. From the corner of his eye he watched Simon Napier-Bell charm a particular slutty-looking one, whom he was calling Nigel very loudly.

Sighing, he pushed the cocktail cherry in his now empty glass around with the umbrella. He rather liked the umbrella better than he had liked the drink, he thought. Then he was startled out of this thought with a bash of someone’s elbow against his arm. He looked up, annoyed, and saw the boy he’d run into earlier stare at him, a slight colour rushing up his already generously rouged cheeks. The look in his big eyes was one of interest rather than embarrassment, though. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the boy said in his thickly accented monotone, sounding like any emotion like repentance was beneath him. He breathed in, deeply, as if he would continue, but nothing else was forthcoming, because he shut his mouth and looked down.

David did not say anything, edging away from him and squinting at his face to take him in properly. “Who did you say you were?” he said. 

“Nick. Nick Rhodes.”

“Right, okay.” David said, turning back to glance at Simon Napier Bell and ponder the problem of his strange boy stalker. He leant over to him. “Do you see that one next to me?” he whispered.

“What about him?” Simon said, taking the opportunity to snake his arm around David’s. 

“Was this his idea?” 

“Ehm, He was there when Paul came to see me, I think.” Simon said, taking another look. “Why?” David only shook his head, and leant away again. This would be interesting.

 

\-------------------------

 

Nick looked at David closely, his clever eyes shining with joy. Though he thought there was only a small chance of them being able to persuade David to produce the album, he was relishing the short moment he had with him. Rationally, he thought that David would stick by his initial reaction- refusal- but another part of him was only ablaze with hope and love and telling him maybe, maybe, maybe. In general he distrusted this side of himself but it was so vocal now he could not help giving into it a little. 

He was sitting across from his own Simon (LeBon), who was keeping an amused eye on the pair of them. Or maybe it was a jealous one. He couldn’t tell, but he knew Simon wouldn’t actively grudge him anything he wanted as badly as this. He felt almost bouncy with joy as he noticed David’s eyes upon him, judging him, he hoped, favourably. 

“So, David.” Simon suddenly blared across the table, his cunning gaze riveted on David’s face, “have you heard anything about Bowie’s new album?” Nick glanced from one to the other in alarm. He turned pleading eyes to Simon, who just smirked, the bastard.

“No,” David replied, after a small pause. He was looking back at Simon with a similar calculating look. Simon changed tactics.

“Have you listened to the tape yet?” Simon yelled at him. Though the bar was noisy, he could still be heard over the noise pretty loudly. Simon Napier Bell turned his face just a fraction to listen in.

“No.” David said, hunching up his shoulders in defense. His face was as still as a mask.

“Thought as much!” Simon shouted back. His eyes narrowed as he grinned toothily, a sharp little twinkle in them. With a great swing of his body, he turned to Tony and started to talk to him instead.

“Your band mates are very strange.” David said to Nick. 

“Yeah.” Nick said. He folded his neat white hands in his lap and gazed trustfully at David, his prim lips curved up in a curious smile. “People usually think Simon’s the normal one though.”

David tried to think of a reply to this, but failed. He started to fumble for cigarettes in his pockets. A tense silence fell. David looked at Nick with his eyebrows raised, mouth set in determination. Nick sighed. Though he had no doubt of his being able to mollify David in the long run, he was making it very difficult. But he looked so beautiful, regally pale and still. If only he’d taken a camera. Even the painful tension between them kind of endeared David to him. He wondered whether David hated him as he remembered he had a packet of fags in his coat, and fished them out.

“Want one?” he asked, waving them at David.

“Go on, then.” David mumbled, in his most conciliating tone yet. David had, in fact, been wondering what to do about this whole debacle. He had decided he did not like any of them, though this one had potential. He recognized the moon-calf look in his green eyes- he had seen it a thousand times before, and he knew it meant he could probably get something out of him. In fact, he could probably get anything he asked for. He lit the cigarette, ignoring Nick’s fidgeting beside him as he put it between his lips and sucked at it languidly for a moment. 

“You’re not like them, are you?” he said, after a few seconds. He glanced over and noted the fine, precise movements of Nick’s fingers as he selected a cigarette for himself and lit it. With the same delicacy of movement, he brought it to his lips, that were slightly too big for his face yet seemed luscious in the low light of the club. It gave him a slight thrill to watch him do it. 

“Neither are you.” Nick said, daringly, though looking calm. 

David said nothing but felt smug as he watched Nick frown slightly, careful not to betray any emotion. “Yes. Maybe I should go.” he then said, his voice low and nasty. Nick’s mouth set in dismay, David noted with pleasure. But he didn’t move. Instead, he glanced over to where Simon Napier Bell was regaling the rest of the band with stories about Marc Bolan. He willed Nick to do something; he wasn’t going to go home on his own after all that. The evening was wasted as it was, he needed something to take out his frustration on. He could feel Nick’s mind churn with anger at not getting what he wanted and hating it. Something would happen.

David tapped his foot, then shifted in his seat as if he was getting up. Suddenly, he felt a small, persistent hand on his arm, and another just touching the top of his thigh, light as a feather. “No.” Nick said, his head very close to his, the tiny movement of his lips nearly tangible in his ear. With a very slight movement, he started to move away again, his lips brushing the side of his jaw. David had to hold himself back, keep very still to make sure he would not get carried away. Finally, he twisted his hand away from Nick’s. 

“I’m leaving.” David gasped. He smoothed down his hair, wiped absent-mindedly at his cheek. “Come with me.” he finished, casting Nick a cool glance. Nick stared at him, nonplussed. 

“Alright.” He replied in his bland monotone. David smiled a tight smile at him that did not reach his eyes to signal his acquiescence. Then they got up furtively, one after the other, and snuck off into the darkness while trying to look as natural as possible. Only Nick noticed Simon LeBon waggle his eyebrows at them as he watched them leave. He stuck his tongue out at him.

 

\---------

 

Outside, they caught a cab, the cabbie maintaining a disgusted but dignified silence as they swerved through the dark streets. He would reserve his rant about nancy boys in lippie for the passenger after them, or the boys in the pub. Still, the two men were on the alert for any danger from him- their fixed stares reflected in the rear view mirror. 

They did not speak again until they were inside, in David’s living room, curtains drawn tight and lights dim and yellow. David fidgeted, clearing up the room a little. He felt angry, still, and thought it would wear off if he did something simple and stupid, but this did not seem to be working. His hands trembled- he noticed now how cold they were. Maybe he needed another line. He glanced over his shoulder at Nick, who had retreated to a corner and was now sitting leafing through Japanese magazines, legs crossed. 

“Do you think they’ll notice we’re gone?” Nick said, nervously. 

“Oh, not ‘til later.” David said, feeling insouciant. With a casual domesticity, he started to assemble all the empty glasses and fag ends from the room, ignoring Nick’s occasional glances. 

He took the time to empty his mind of everything but his own effortless power. He lounged at the table, playing with an empty glass he had picked up, and looked at Nick, noticing different things about him now. He seemed very young, his small body- probably about the size of his own, he supposed, but it looked small to him anyway- folded into the chair so neatly it was like he’d disappeared. The only things moving were his eyes and hands, so meticulous and purposeful in their small, darting motions. He watched him turn the pages with his white hands from the corner of his eye. He laughed to himself at the absurdity of today. What am I doing, he thought, hazily. Then he leant down, grabbed Nick by the wrists, and, pulling him forward, kissed him. 

It was a little awkward, but after the initial start, he nearly lunged into the embrace. Suddenly he felt so hungry for contact it made him forget everything else. His hands flew onto Nick’s face, feeling the soft skin of his cheeks, moving into his hair, which felt strange-simultaneously dry and greasy from hairspray and dye, like his own. He felt Nick touch him on his sides, his fingers slipping there and scraping into his flesh. The feeling of his tongue was invasive and strange. He pulled away, breathing shallowly, feeling doubtful. 

Even as the feeling emerged he shoved it aside. Nick had gotten up, and immediately they fell together again. David pulled Nick against him brusquely. It was such a forceful tug they stumbled sideways a little, against the wall, his hips crushed between the wall behind him and Nick’s frantic push before him. It hurt, his back too skinny to cushion it, the bones feeling bruised, but the feeling of pressure excited him and he ran his hands into Nick’s loose shirt to caress his very soft fair skin, stretched over the sharp angle of his hip. He felt embarrassed by himself but he still kept doing it, the dull waxy taste of lipstick on his tongue and teeth and the sound of Nick’s sharp breathing in his ear. 

Finally, he wrenched his head away, putting his palms against Nick’s chest and pushing him away, trying to decide whether he wanted to continue this or not. But already he felt Nick tighten his hold on his waist, his mouth wet on the side of his neck and he relaxed again, effusive pleasure erasing all his thoughts. He let himself be loved like this for a while, his own hands and body only reacting. Usually he resisted being passive- he felt it was what people expected him to be- but it was nice now, to give up to someone so into pleasing him. Idly he rubbed his hips against Nick’s, shivering a little at the pleasure that brought, then pushed up against him so they moved back, Nick stumbling with the suddenness of the movement. 

“Come in here.” He said, and walked, with a slightly stilted gait, to the bedroom, where he started to strip down. He did it with a purposeful carelessness, learnt after many pleas and scoldings from Mick and Simon about how careless he was with his expensive and beautiful clothes. Nick lingered in the doorway, green eyes wide. He looked startled. David glanced at him, amused, yet annoyed at his inactivity. Silently, he went over to him and kissed his neck, the smell of hairspray drugging him, as he worked up Nick’s shirt with his hands, then ducked under it. Nick gasped with the sudden feeling of his lips on the tender white of his belly, but mustered enough strength to take off his top with a short struggle. “Finally.” David mumbled, the vibration of his voice against the soft thin hair lining from his belly button making Nick jerk his hips away very slightly. 

David straightened up again, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Nick’s trousers and pulling him flush against him, savouring the feeling of bare skin on bare skin. Nick seemed nervous about being naked, avoiding his eyes, his touch flighty. Watching him closely, David undid his fly and pulled down his trousers a short way, then ran his hand lightly across his thigh and around his cock, stroking it teasingly. Nick tensed up at the feeling of being naked, then at the invasiveness of the touch, but quickly forgot it in how good it felt. He seemed not to think about being watched anymore, leaning into David and his eyes drooping shut.

Dissatisfied, David let him go, just like that. He looked at him for a moment as his bright green eyes snapped open and then narrowed, an eyebrow flying up. He stood very still, face flushed with arousal and anger, but he did nothing. David got up, wondering what he would do. Their eyes met and in a flash, their bodies were smashed together as Nick flew at him. David moved in to let his lips be squashed against his, feeling a wonderful stab of excitement as Nick furled his hand round his cock and stroked, hard. It felt so good that he relaxed, his tense shoulders sagged and he moaned, helplessly. Nick’s precision, hard touch, and his warm, white body so close thrilled him, the silence and the resentment pleased him, as he went slowly weaker everywhere, closer to release.

Then it stopped. David stood there like a fool, waiting for something, but nothing happened so he opened his eyes and saw Nick, just before him, having a fight with his leather trousers. David smiled. “Bloody...” Nick ranted to himself. David watched him, fidgeting to stop himself from just jumping on him. It was oddly endearing. Once Nick had accomplished this, he grabbed David by the wrists, and, with a surprising display of strength, maneuvered him onto the bed, climbing half over him. He smiled down at him, looked highly pleased with himself. David wondered what he thought he was going to do, as he writhed agilely out of Nick’s reach and looked for the Vaseline on the sideboard. 

It only took him a minute, but soon Nick was already pulling him back down, crawling on top of him and sucking his nipples in a way that made him forget everything else and just lie, biting his lips with the pleasure. In a moment of clarity, he snaked his arms around Nick’s waist, pulling him down against him, his hard-on stuck painfully between their hips. With a simple swing of his body, he rolled them both over, and he bit Nick’s lips to hide his own smile. He held him still with the pressure of his body, and when he entered him they both trembled and gasped. 

It was wonderful to live in the moment, and that was all that David wanted to focus on, the moment of finding, of wanting and taking. If only it could never end- he dreaded that already, the fear adding a special tension that fuelled the smooth motion of his hips, the drive of his body. David could feel the frustration of weeks building up and ebbing away, losing himself in the feeling of Nick’s lithe, small body so tight against his and the pull and release of his own. Somewhere along the line he felt between their warm sticky bodies and, with a few quick jerks, made Nick come with a short, high cry, but he was already lost by then and when he came he felt he could remember absolutely nothing of that night before that point. 

 

\---------

 

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Nick, an expression of unnerving certainty on his round face, was studying him. He blinked, feeling his thin body wrapped around his, and scrambled off him, into the cool calmness of the sheets. He could still feel Nick’s presence in the darkness as he switched off the light, however. It was odd, he thought to himself, how someone could seem so unimportant and invisible at first and then slowly come to dominate any space they shared with you. David, however, felt thinner somehow, translucent like a vapour trail or an ancient ghost, fading in the presence of light. Uncomfortable, he fumbled with the top of the duvet and shuffled his feet, trying to find a better spot to lie in.

In the back of his mind he could feel the worries and badness he had banished tonight begin to creep back, the old emptiness beginning to gape. He glanced over at Nick, and felt a painful twinge of desire. He wondered whether, if he tried long enough, he could take back whatever Nick had taken from him, whatever it was that made him feel so faded. Spite welling up inside him, David turned over and hid his face in the sheets.


End file.
